The next morning, I dress for breakfast in a simple pair of jeans and a light pink cotton top. I don't usually get to wear light colors, since our district is pretty much covered in a permanent layer of coal dust. I brush out my hair and head out to the dining area, where I find Felix scarfing down food and Lucas drinking a cup of black coffee, his eyes vaguely bloodshot.

"Good morning!" I chirp happily, sliding into the seat across from Lucas. He glances up at me and I see a small smile curl his lips upward. "How did everyone sleep?"

Felix says something incoherent through his mouth of food and I laugh at him. "Gross, Felix! You're really tarnishing your reputation as the most polite tribute to ever come from 12."

Felix just grunts and makes a rude gesture at me, but his eyes are laughing and I giggle back at him, although Lucas shoots him a look before joining in on our playful banter.

"Hey!" Lucas protests. "I was a very polite tribute."

"You're a polite everything," I say with a roll of my eyes. "So, Mr. Mentor, any trips for training?"

The lightness in his face disappears and he suddenly gets serious again. "Don't let them see your best skills. You want the other tributes to not know what you have up your sleeve. So Brooke, no climbing or knife throwing. Better yet, no hand to hand combat either. Felix, no wrestling. I advise you both to spend a good amount of time at the survival stations. Once you're past the blood bath, a lot of your survival hinges on your ability to survive the elements."

"Thank you," I say with a somewhat curt nod. "Let's play a game!"

Felix scoffs and keeps eating, stacking a plate with food and wandering into the room with the TV, leaving just myself and Lucas at the table.

"A game?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

"Yes!" I insist as I begin to eat. "This morning is all too serious for me."

"It's supposed to be serious."

"They're called the Hunger Games for a reason, Broody. Duh!"

He lets out a little bark of laughter at my joke, and I smirk in satisfaction. "Broody?"

"Yes, because you brood."

"Fine, Cheery."

"I'll accept that nickname but only if you play with me!"

"Alright, what's the game?"

"I'll say a word, and you have to come up with another word that starts with the last letter of my word. Like, if I say egg you could say green, and then I would say name, and then you would say…" I drift off as I try to think of a word, then crinkle up my eyebrows in thought. "Shit. What's another word that starts with E other than egg?'

He laughs loudly at me and agrees to play, starting out with the word "black".

"Kettle."

"Eat."

"Turnip."

"Puffin."

"What the fuck is a puffin?" I exclaim, laughing wildly. He starts laughing, too, and I'm glad to see the lightness return to his eyes as they sparkle with mirth.

"It's a kind of bird! I read about them once."

"You read horribly boring books, obviously."

"Hey, now…"

I grin at him and he grins back, our eyes locking. I try to shake the small shiver that goes up my spine, but I can't help but enjoy the feeling while it lasts. However, all good things must come to an end and I say goodbye to him to get ready for training.

"Okay," I feign a heavy sigh. "I suppose I need to go hone my skills as a mad killing machine."

He pegs me with a stare. "Not funny."

"I'm always funny," I say cheekily, sticking my tongue out at him and receiving the slightest of reluctant smiles. "Your face will get stuck like that, Broody, stop grumping around!"

"Grumping is not a verb!"

"Anything is a verb if you…verb it."

With those words of wisdom, I skip off to my room, the low chuckling of Lucas fading as I reach the hall, and change into my training outfit, which is a stretchy tank top along with some stretchy capri pants and impossibly comfortable sneakers.

I try to remember Lucas's tips as we descend into the training center, which is full of different stations. Felix and I are the last to arrive. Everyone is already occupied at assorted stations, but the survival stations are all empty. Felix immediately drifts to the spear throwing station, where the male tributes from 1 and 2 are practicing. I roll my eyes at his predictability and go to the edible plant station.

The instructor is nice, and he helps me a lot. By the end of my twenty minute session, I have a pretty good handle on what to look for in order to determine if a plant is poisonous. Next, I go to the knot tying station. I know a little bit about snares from Nathan, but I figure I could use a refresher course. The instructor is impressed with my work, and I'm grateful that Nathan's large, clumsy hands had needed my assistance so many times that I had finally started just going with him and doing several snares myself. While I can only make the kind that will catch smaller animals, I know that I'll still have an advantage looking for food.

"Hi Brooke," a sweet voice says as I approach the climbing station. I look up and see little Annabel, swinging from a rope near the ceiling, beaming down at me. I smile back up at her, trying to forget what Lucas said last night.

"Hey Annabel," I greet. I grab on to the rope beside hers and begin to scamper up it. "How's it hangin?"

My pun makes her laugh. "It's okay. I like it better up here. The Careers are a little scary."

I pretend like I'm not just as afraid of them as she is and let out a disbelieving laugh. "Please, those guys are all talk and no action, honey."

She can obviously tell I'm lying but she smiles and pretends to believe me. "Wanna see me do a trick?" I nod, and she leaps from her rope onto the other one to her left. I laugh and make noises like a roaring crowd.

"Wanna see me do one, too?" I ask, and she nods eagerly. I grab onto the rope to my right and slowly ease myself between them, so I'm dangling high up above the mats. I gather all of my strength and curl my legs into my chest before rocking backward into a spin. Once my arm joints have reached their full range of motion, I drop the rope to my right and complete the back flip before grabbing back on to my original rope. Annabel whoops in delight and I smile at her.

I hear something drop, followed by silence, and I realize that I was only supposed to give it seventy percent, and I cringe at what I've done; I've made myself a target. What seems like silly tricks to me seems like a display of strength, flexibility, and climbing abilities to the 22 tributes below me out for my blood.

In an effort to right my wrong, I impulsively throw a wink at Annabel and make a show of my arms giving out. I plummet onto the mat below me, at least thirty feet below. I feel the air leave my lungs and I gasp for air on the ground, cursing myself for my stupidity. I can feel myself bruising on one side already.

I stand and hobble my way over to the archery station and try to remember everything Nathan has taught me. I smile at the instructor, who gives me a couple of basic pointers that I already know. Feet apart, straight back, keep your elbow in line with your wrist. I make my stance, which Nathan thinks is awful, and give it a go.

It flies directly above me and I have to duck to avoid losing an eye. The trainer looks at my skeptically, and I realize he had good cause for that when my next arrow nearly hits him in the heart. As much as I like to believe that this makes me deadly, he was not even close to my target. I take a deep breath through my nose and remember that Peyton has always told me that it's not just practice that makes perfect, but patience, too. I keep going, taking deep breaths in between my shots. By the end of my session, I've actually hit the target six times, an impressive amount of me. I grin as I think of how proud Nathan would be.

Before I know it, the first day of training is almost over. My body is aching and I long to go back to my fancy room and take a long, hot shower. I look at the clock above the entrance and see that we only have fifteen more minutes. I sigh in relief, but that feeling is short lived.

"Hey, 12!"

I turn around and the girl from 2 is staring at me with steely blue eyes, her dark hair in a bun on top of her head.

"Yeah?"

"What do you say to some sparring?"

I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously. "Tributes aren't allowed to fight each other before the Games."

She shrugs. "A friendly spar doesn't exactly count."

The instructor beside her, a bulky man who, in all honesty, looks like he has rocks for brains, nods.

"Unless," the girl from 2 continues, "you're too scared."

I know what I should do. I should walk away and go over the edible plants one more time before calling it a day. Instead, my stubborn streak that Peyton often swears will be the death of me emerges, and I'm walking over to her before I even register what's happening.

I approach her and face her on the mats. "Okay, let's do this. What are the rules?"

"Rules?" she laughs. "This is the Hunger Games, Brooke Davis. There are no rules."

As I'm contemplating how the hell she knows my name, she attempts to strike me, but I quickly block it and shift to the side. We begin to circle one another, and she makes another attempt at a strike. As she steps toward me, I quickly trip her up. She regains her footing, though, and she comes at me again. This time she lands a hit on my stomach, but I quickly retaliate with a quick kick to the gut that leaves her gasping. I quickly throw a leg behind her knees, dropping her to the ground. I pin her arms down and start counting.

One.

Two.

Just as I'm about to win this spar once and for all, and much more quickly than I anticipated, she rolls us over and gets a good punch in on my face. I growl and use my legs as my strength to roll us over once again. This time, I'm the one who gets two good punches in on her face before I get an arm around her neck. This time, the pin lasts all three seconds, and I'm declared the winner. I push her off of me and stand up, smiling sweetly.

"Thanks for the practice, 2."

I turn and walk out of the training center, even though there are a few minutes left. I arrive at our apartment before Felix does, and I shed myself of my training shoes, carrying them in my hand.

"Hey Brooke," Lucas calls, jogging after me. I stop and let him catch up, rolling my sore neck around. "How was the first day?"

When he asks me, I'm suddenly struck by how badly everything hurts. After my fall and then the sparring with 2, I'm exhausted and extremely sore. All I want to do is take a hot shower and crawl into my ridiculously comfortable bed.

"A little rough," I say candidly. He looks worried, so I quickly continue. "But I learned a lot at the survival stations and got a pretty good handle on the bow."

"Good," he says, and he looks relieved. Then he gets a good look at the side of my face where 2 punched me. "What the hell happened to your face?"

I grimace at being caught and lower my eyes, hoping that a certain amount of bashful charm might soften him. It works on Nathan, so I might as well give it a try. "I maybe sparred with the girl from 2 a little bit?"

"How much is a little bit of sparring?" Lucas asks incredulously. It seems that my bashful act isn't working, so I drop it and come clean.

"Okay fine, I sparred with her. But I won!"

"You won?" he gasps, and for a moment I make the mistake of thinking he's proud. His face darkens. "God damn it, Brooke."

"What?" I ask. "What is your problem?"

"You just proved that you can defeat a Career in hand to hand combat, Brooke! They're going to come after you, and they're going to come after you hard. These are people that have been trained to kill for their entire lives, and you are the number one person on their hit list now," he growls. "How the fuck am I supposed to save you now?"

The implications of what he just said hit me like a ton of bricks and I stumble back a few steps, horrified when I feel tears filling my eyes. I turn and run up the hall, slamming the door to my room and locking it, even though I can hear Lucas calling my name.

I get sick of hearing him knock on the door, so I go into the bathroom and take that long shower I was fantasizing about earlier. I sink to the floor and I finally let myself cry. Because I'm going into the arena with a target on my back. Because I miss Peyton. Because I want to have Nathan give me a bear hug. Because I want to trade Haley my dry bread for some strawberries, even though I know she has better bread at home. Because of the way that Lucas Scott's blue eyes make me feel.

When my skin starts to shrivel, I finally pull myself off of the floor and dry off. The convenience of the full body and hair dryers in the Capitol will never cease to amaze me. I go to my closet and pull on a pair of dark linen pants and a plain, cream colored shirt that dips surprisingly low in the front. I contemplate changing it for this reason, but find I don't care. I hover near the door, trying to decide if I want to go out and eat dinner with everyone else, but I change my mind and crawl into bed instead. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

The next thing I know, there is a frustrated pounding on my door. I glare at it until I hear Lucas' voice.

"Brooke, I'm leaving food out here," Lucas calls through the door. "I'm not going to try to talk to you, but you have to eat."

I sigh as I hear his footsteps walk away, half relieved and half disappointed. I get up and open the door, bringing the tray of food inside. Somehow, he has already figured out my favorite Capitol foods and has had them all arranged on the tray. I fight the urge to smile, still mad at the way he yelled at me in the hall. I eat quickly and then notice the note, asking me to meet him on the roof. I sigh and stand, slipping my feet into some slippers and padding up the secret staircase.

"Hi," I say to his back.

"Hey," he says quickly, turning around and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. I do my best to pretend that it's not completely adorable. "I didn't think you would come."

I shrug, not really feeling like saying anything else.

"Listen, I talked to Felix about what happened today," he says. "And he told me that the spar was really short. When he explained it move for move, I think you're going to be fine. She was only giving it fifty percent, I know it. I called up her mentor and got a little bit of info on the girl. My best advice is to just stay away from her in the arena, she's a real killer. But for the record, you need to watch your back. You can't fall into their teasing so quickly."

"I know," I grumble. "I'm a little proud."

"A little?" he mocks. I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs before becoming serious. "I'm sorry that I yelled at you like that. It's just…it's my job to try and make sure you come out of this alive, and I overreacted." It stings a little bit that his concern is chalked up simply to doing his job. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yeah, I guess," I say mock-grudgingly, ignoring the sting. "Only because you bribed me with my favorite food."

He grins in return, and suddenly places an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side in a half-hug.

"Good, I'm glad."

He keeps his arm around me for awhile as we look out over the Capitol and I enjoy the feeling of his warmth, but there's a question burning in my mind and I have to ask it.

"Lucas," I say softly, pulling away from him. "Don't you think that our…friendship is a little inappropriate for a mentor and a tribute?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and he looks down in guilt. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I shouldn't have."

"It was just a hug," I reassure him, taking a step toward him, but he takes a step back. I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration and force myself to continue looking into his eyes.

"And that's too much," he says definitively. "I think you're right. I think outside of coaching you, I need to keep my distance."

I swallow hard but keep up a mask. It's one of my strongest skills. My ability to hide my emotions would be legendary if anybody even realized how good I am at it. "If that's what you want," I say, failing at keeping the hurt out of my voice.

"It's not," he says candidly, and I'm surprised by his honesty. "But it's what will keep you safe."

"Nothing can keep me safe," I shoot back. "Not you, not alliances, sure as hell not myself. How is distancing yourself from me going to help me?"

"Trust me, Brooke, it will."

"How?" I push.

"I'm a distraction to you," he finally says. "And you're a distraction for me. I've been using you as a distraction because I hate doing this job, but I can't do that. And I can't let myself get attached to you the way that I have been, but you were different than I expected you to be."

"What did you expect me to be?" I ask, unable to restrain myself. He remains silent and averts his eyes from me and I let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, right. Like everyone else in 12 you thought I was just some brainless Seam slut."

"No!" Lucas says quickly, but I shake my head at him and hold up my hand.

"You can save it," I growl. "If distance is what you want, it's what I'll give you."

I turn to leave and I give him a cold look. "You know, Lucas, I thought you were different. I thought you saw past all of that because you're somebody who understands what it's like to be more than what you seem. But I was wrong about you. And you were very wrong about me. I'm not going to be your distraction anymore. I'm not going to comfort you anymore. You survived your Games, Lucas, and I know that it's hard afterwards but I'm trying to figure out a way to survive mine."

I hear him let out a strangled sound that sounds vaguely like my name, but I keep walking away from him until he finally yells my name.

"Brooke!" He jogs over and stops in front of me. "Everything came out completely wrong. It really did and I'm really sorry for that. You're not a distraction to me. I mean that getting close to you is distracting me from what I need to do to make sure that you make it out of there alive. I need us to be professional about this so that I'll get to see you again once this is all over. I need you to come out alive, Brooke."

"Okay," I concede. "Professional it is, then."

I can tell my less than warm reaction isn't exactly what he wanted, but I walk away regardless, finally letting my eyes pool with tears and wanting nothing more than Peyton's skinny arms around me and Nathan's earnest blue eyes giving me a look of comfort.